Revival
by shallowswan
Summary: When Rip Van Winkle happens to encounter Sirius Black, she is forced to face the shadows of both her past and her desires. Rip/Sirius
1. Chapter 1:The Blood Eagle

_Revival_

_Sarah is back! :) And Sarah feels like telling the tale of another unlikely couple...Sirius Black and Rip Van Winkle. I am gunning at maybe three or four chapters, with some flashbacks/flashfowards. Enjoy! :)_

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_**Chapter One: The Blood Eagle**_

_**Rip Van Winkle POV**_

_**An island near Neuharlingerseil, Germany. **_

_**August 2 1993 **_

I was dreaming when I first heard the yelping.

It was one of my most frequent dreams, flashes of a room haloed only by the eerie glow of computer monitors. A table piled high with a human confectionaries, and a figure sitting hunched over in his chair with wild hair shooting in every directions. I caught a glimpse of the hunched mans face, a flash of eyes so wild they sent a chill of heat down to my loins. That was really saying something, in those days I was a strict carpet diver.

Than the animalistic yelping snapped away the image of the mad eyed man. I hissed in pain as sunlight pierced my eyelids. The blazing light had sank below the brim of my yellow umbrella, and singed my skin. I watched momentarily hypnotized as the white flesh turned a seared red, split into blisters...than faded back to the original dead white flesh. That was the most harm direct sunlight could inflect on me.

I leapt up from the rock strewn ground and slung my gun across my shoulders. It's a glorious gun, the most beautiful sight within my world. I'd crafted the nine foot long, flintlock musket with my own two hands. It bore the name Kasper. Naturally my near immortal body didn't ache in the least as Kasper's weight dug down into my shoulders as I went clamoring across the rock strewn landscape in search of the source.

Once I knew a time when jolting out of my fits off sleep could very well mean the end of my existence, where I couldn't possibly have rushed in a panic across such an open landscape without risking being mowed down by bullets. A time before the end of the Glorious _Kreig_. But now, even if the _Krieg_ had waged on, I could still walk harmlessly through any battlefield.

The grey and tumultuous expanse of the North Sea stretched out before me. The waves churned and frothed angrily, and the reek of brine and decaying fish clung to the fierce wind. But even through that foulness I detected the scent of blood.

I breathed deep of the drugging scent, and felt my fangs lengthening, my eyes burning with a red glow. Human blood. I was scrambling madly towards the scent, trying to recall the last time I'd smelled the fresh bloodshed of a living human. I climbed wildly down the slopping face of a rocky cliff and spotted a shadow writhing in between two jagged pillars of grey rock.

_"HALT_!" I shouted at the figure. "_ICH TÖTEN SIE_!" _Stop! I will kill you! _ But this was only a formality. Yes, I had orders to shoot and kill anything that invaded this forgotten coast line, but I would have shot merely for the rush of pulling the trigger. I tore into to the surf, but slowed drastically the moment the freezing water touched my skin. As I passed in between the rock pillars I stopped completely.

Laying half dead in the surf was a immense black dog, its pale eyes half rolled back into its skull. Nowhere could I spot the bleeding human. The weight of my disappointment almost caused me to drop Kasper. The dog breathed raggedly, blood seeping from its mouth, nose and countless other wounds. The sea foam pulled away stains of red.

Snarling, I kicked the doomed beast in frustration. I felt half its rib cage collapse beneath my boot. The dog yelped as it flew across the surf, and slammed against the barnacle encrusted rock. A faint popping sound reached my ears, but it wasn't the sound of bones snapping...it was the sound the dogs body made as it suddenly transformed dramatically...transformed into that of a human.

For a moment I could only stare in disbelief at the man crumpled against the rock. A few years back Zorin and I had spread word that one of the bunkers Millennium owned along this coastline was a meth lab. We were searching for the lowest dregs of humans in which to perform our experiments on, the humans that nobody would miss. For a long moment I thought this man must be one of those meth junkies, so desperate for a fix that he would wonder into this desolate island in the slim hope of finding it.

He was a deathly pallid human, his skin stretched tightly against his bones and roiling with open sores. Pale grey eyes shone from the depths of his sunken eye sockets. His filthy black hair hung in a dreadlocked tangle down to his waist. He wore only thin grey rags to cover his body, he was drenched in sea water and covered in seaweeds, and several white points of his rib cage were now protruding from the right side of his thin chest.

Thin and rasping screams issues from his lips. I couldn't help but to notice the shape of those lips, narrow, but perfectly bowed and more than behoving to a woman's lips. This lead me back to his face; to the high, narrow cheekbones, straight nose, thin shaped eyes, and arched brow...behind the mask of starvation his features were stunning.

A flare of anger surged through my breast...what was I doing admiring a man? Given half a chance this pathetic being would gladly stick his cock in my ass and fuck me until I couldn't sit for weeks. I slung Kasper securely across my shoulders, grabbed him by the neck before he could touch me and shoved him up against the stone.

_"Wer bist du? WAS bist du?_" I questioned sternly.

The wasted man trembled, coughed gravely with his punctured lung and managed a gravelly voice that had long fallen into disuse. "Eech sprechen no Deutsch." It was the most ridiculous attempt at German I had ever heard.

I growled in a manner very similar to a tigress, adoring the wild fear that shot across his once elegant features. "Vho are you? Vhat are you?" I repeated in English.

The man only writhed and sobbed against the stone, and weakly clutched at this shattered chest. "Ma'am...please...help..."

"SHUT THAT MA'AM SHIT UP! YOU are TRESPASSING on priwate land, und I haf orders to shoot and kill on sight. Your alive now only because I vant a fucking answer! Vho are you! VHAT are you?"

"...serious..." the man whimpered, recoiling at the tone of my shrieks.

In a blur of my hand I reached down and seized one of the bloody white shards of bone protruding through his skin, and I tugged gently. With only this mere touch I managed to urge the rib bone out of its rightful setting, leaving more than half of the mans rib jutting out from the side of his body at a right angle. He screamed wildly, and I smiled in return, feeling my teeth lengthening more so. Right now I must look like the Cheshire Cat.

"Have you ever heard of a form of Norse torture called the Blood Eagle? Well, here in this territory ve've learned quite a bit about the vine art of torture. Vhen the Blood Eagle is performed the executioner cuts free the ribs from the prisoner's vertebrae, breaks them in such a manner than they protrude from the back in the pattern of wings. The executioner than pulls the lungs out through the back, and without the use of the chest muscles the prisoner soon suffocates. Vell, in my wersion, _Der Blut Adler_, I know exactly how to break the ribs from the front, und keep you alive, keep you breathing. I can pull your lungs out from side...und still keep you breathing, and all the vhile form that gorgeous winged effect vith your might be hours before you finally bleed _oder_ suffocate to death. Now tell me...VHO ARE DU!"

"Serious..." the man sobbed, blood already trickling faster from his mouth.

"ANSWER!" I cried, and yanked another rib out of its rightful place and through the flesh, placing it above the previous rib. Ravenously I licked my lips as blood gushed through my hands.

"SERIOUS!" he screamed, "My name...Serious Black!"

I snapped the third exposed rib merely because I wanted to see the bloody shape of wings take form. The rise and fall of his screams, the gasping, choking, wheezing in combination with the howl of the ocean...notes cannot begin to describe such beautiful music.

But tonight I would try to put the notes onto paper regardless of my inability to express it's purity.

"Und vas are you?"

"A...a wizard..." he moaned, body twitching beneath my hand.

"Hmmm...Vizard. Ja..." I nodded, and stayed my hand. "Vhat kind of name is Serious Black?" I snickered, but the man only sobbed in response.

I moved my hand into this filthy mess of hair, and yanked his head back so that his rail thin neck lay completely exposed to my teeth. Blood from his mouth ran in currents down onto his throat, and hungrily I lapped at the tiny rivers.

He'd answered my questions, I could just bite into his neck and let it all end. Or I could finish my _blut Adler,_ and leave him as an example for anyone who dared to trespass upon this island.

Serious Black finally fell limp against my grasp, more likely than not the combination of pain, starvation and terror drove him into unconsciousness. My grip was was strong

enough to keep him from falling into the surf, but as his body sagged my eye was drawn to his narrow left shoulder. Through a hole in his rags I saw a faded tattoo. In poor ink it read PY390.

On my own left shoulder I possessed a similar tattoo, although it read HL815, but it was etched their by the same poor quality ink. I was much more proud of the glorious Nazi Eagle gracing my lower back. I let Serious fall limply into the water as I touched the tattoo beneath my clothing, feeling cold rise up from my shoulder.

It was a relic from Azkaban prison, where I had wound up after the fall of Berlin. For the first two months after the fall I was passed from solider to solider to torture and fuck any way they wished. I thought nothing could have overcome the agony of that humiliation, but spending the next ten years in Azkaban proved me otherwise.

Now as I regarded the human I felt my appetite ebbing away, my fangs withdrew into my skull.

At that time I had no inkling of the existence of the man who would one day be my husband and soul mate, and I didn't know anything about deductive reasoning. However I didn't have to be married to the worlds greatest detective to know that the castaway I was torturing has endured far worse than the Blood Eagle.

This man, Serious Black as he called himself, must have escaped single handedly from Azkaban, and swam across the frigid expanse of the _Nordsee_ to wash up here. No need existed for me to torture him any further.

However, I also could not find the urge to simply grant him the end that was certain for him. I found myself looking closer at his elegant face. I looked hard for any trace of the immense nose, and leering, blunted features that would have betrayed him as _Juden_ swine, but I didn't detect any. Even his sea soaked black hair didn't have a hint of curl to it. He wasn't exactly Ayran, but certainly not _Juden_.

My curiosity wasperformed so I performed the one fool proof test in finding Jew, and yanked down the thin rags that served as his pants. Definably not a Jew, his manhood was unaltered by a sadistic rabbi's knife. In all honestly, I found it quite pleasant to look at for at least a moment.

I blushed and covered him again. "Vell, du are quite lucky Herr Castavay. Your _unbeschnitten schwanz_ hast saved your life, for the moment anyvay. I see no reason to take your life, you seem no threat to me, _oder_ to the Fuhrer, but I haf to leave that up to the Major. "

From that moment onward I held no doubt about sparing what was left of his life. I yanked the castaway up from the surf and wrapped him gently across my shoulders, taking care not to aggravate my half hearted attempt at a Blood Eagle, and began to race back to my hideout.

**_Sirius' point of view_**

**_Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry_**

**_1974_**

I couldn't believe how motherfucking hard my dick was. I didn't care that James was hovering beside me, shoving me aside to get a better view of the peephole in the cupboard wall. Regardless of James I yanked myself free of my robes and and began to wank enthusiastically. James wasn't particularly fazed by my boldness, his eyes were focused raptly on the girls in front of us. This wasn't the first time we'd snuck into the the girls Quiddich locker rooms , but it was the first time that we'd seen more than the occasional flash of sweaty tits.

Today the victory pumped girls (A Gryffindor victory naturally.) were cat walking, giggling, wrestling and even bending over at that delightful angle where their tits hang down and both ass and pussy are on glorious display.

I stroked myself so viciously that I ached, and began to pant like the rests trapped within my soul.

Suddenly a girl whipped about, a Slytherin from the looks of her sapphire eyes rimmed with glasses. She had a slender, almost boyish body but a cute little cleft to her snatch, and tiny perky breasts with rosy pink nipples. Her wild black hair fell to her knees.

Her lensed eyes caught mine.

And she smiled, displaying a vicious set of jagged fangs.

I leapt back, scr-

_**Blut Adler Station**_

_**A Division of the Millennium project**_

**_August 3 1993_ **

-eaming.

"Nooo! Nooo please!" I shrieked, awareness sinking into my senses. Senses that were flooded with white hot pain.

The whole of my body throbbed, but the prevailing pain radiated from rib mutilated rib cage, and a subtler yet fresher pain from my fingers. I forced my eyes open to find myself staring at a blinding white ceiling with enormous Muggle light fixtures, and I was strapped down to a gurney. I glanced down at my right hand to find my index finger looped through the jaws of a some hideous nut cracker. The instrument snapped and I watched numbly crushed appendage crushed into pulp.

"HAHAHA! YO, he is AWAKE now bro!" crowed a voice, one that thankful didn't match her monstrously musical voice.

"Quite Jan!" spoke another. I shifted as best at could to see my torturer. It wasn't her, but it was certainly a vampire. Or rather a bleached out two bit thug with a delusional air of sophistication, and a perchant for raping whores who cannot fight back. "Let hear this piggy squeal." he purred.

"Piggy?...uh...but wait...Rippy said that he was originally a muthafuckin cock suckin dog yo..." said the first voice in utter confusion.

"I said shut up Jan!" the second hissed and slid the perverse nutcracker onto my middle finger.

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German translation:Krieg means war. _unbeschnitten schwanz_ means uncut penis. Yes...I can't tell you how to find a bathroom in German but I know how to describe a penis! As for the rest of the German I think I had enough context but message me if I missed something! See you soon! :)

Chapter Two: An apology. Electricity. A coffin. and a foul human kiss.


	2. Chapter 2: Living Dead Girl

_My rambles: wow this is turning into a very mature rated story, in both terms of violence and eroticness. I am adoring how this is turning out tho, and think I can wrap it all up with just two more chapters! :)_

**Chapter Two: Living Dead Girl**

"_Operation filth, they love to love the wealth of an SS whore making scary sounds." - _Living Dead Girl, Rob Zombie.

**Sirius' Point of View**

**Krauhausen, formerly Berlin, Germany. **

**3,056 A.D **

_I am infinitely grateful for the scene that a towering Scotsman caused when he entered the bar. Open Graves is a bar for vampires or the Nobility as they where calling themselves these days. The bar was packed with the Nobility, so many that I threw on James' old invisibility cloak just for good measure, and sulked into the corner. _

_After watching and waiting for about two hours a towering blonde Scotsman armed with bayonets just barged in, took one look at the vampires hunched over the jukebox and started tearing them to pieces. The Scotsman didn't stop even when one of the vampires set him on fire. _

_Throughout all the commotion I darted to the bar and approached a vampiress dressed in the ancient Lolita fashion complete with a black lace parasol balanced in her hands. The Lolita woman had spent most of her time at the bar drinking type O negative blood and talking to another vampire, a man I assumed was her husband. He sat in a crouch on the stool with his knees hugged against his chest, wore the most ill fitting and bland clothing I had ever seen on a vampire but possessed wild tangles of black hair. But the peculiar vampire had left to catch a closer glimpse of the Scotsman, and left me free to approach my target, the woman I had traveled all this way in mere hopes of speaking to. _

_I pulled off the invisibility cloak and slid into the stool next to her, "May I buy you a drink, love?" I began. _

_The vampiress lowered her lacy parasol, and turned to face me with enraged blue eyes that quickly cooled when she recognized my face. I breathed a sigh of relief when I recognized hers...from across the room I couldn't really tell if it was her. _

_I recognized her only by the immense curl jutting at least a foot from her forehead. Rip looked older, paler and overall changed. I knew this was impossible, she was a vampire...never the less I perceived subtle lines in her face and around her eyes that I never remember before. Her hair was shorter, cut just above her waist and combed more carefully, and she wasn't wearing glasses, nor was she wearing her trademark swastika necklace. But she stared at me with the same striking blue eyes, "Sirius?' she questioned with a note of disbelief._

_"Rip Van Winkle." I acknowledged, glad she recognized me. I indeed have changed, gathered quite a few more wrinkles, scars, tattoos and grey hairs, but I am still happy with the reflection in the mirror. For well over 3,000 years old I don't look that bad at all. _

_"It's Rei Lawliet now." she hissed in a undertone that was unnecessary in the commotion. _

_"And its just S now, never Sirius, but you already know that assuming I know anything about your husband. Vampire Hunter S if you want to use my full title."_

_She nodded," Yes, of course I know your new name. What do you want, S?" her tone was quite...I can tell she'd been expecting this. Her husband, the legendary Vampire L likely already knew I was waiting for her in this bar despite the invisibility cloak. _

_I flinched at her voice...it was the same lovely voice of Rip Van Winkle but her German accent had vanished, replaced by a natural, but outdated British one, which mimicked her husband's._

_"Rei...I need your help. I helped you once before all those centuries ago and was hoping you could return the favor. I need your bravery and your husbands thinking power. If you want to join me than I promise we can bring down Alucard. I have helped you before...would you be willing to listen to me? Think of giving this a chance?" _

_Rip's eyes are rapt, and she smiled softly, "Alright, S. I am listening." _

**Sirius' point of view **

**August 3, 1993**

**Millennium Blut Adler Experimental Base**.

All I remembered was pain searing through my flesh. I don't know how long the torture lasted, but it lasted an eternity to my scenes. Than eternity ended abruptly. I sensed this wouldn't be the last time my scenes where locked in an eternity of pain.

When I opened my physical eyes again I was still strapped to the bed but the enormous muggle lights where off, leaving me in darkness. I began to weep silently as the pain rushed over me in tidal waves. I had to weep silently because my ribs where still jutting from my skin and my hands broken into useless splinters. Each breathe was a fresh stab of torment. I kept crying, my tears etching away the seconds of another eternity of hell. However I savored each tear, they were proof that I had not lost my soul.

Than the door split wide and a shaft of light struck my eyes. A familiar shape stood against the halo of light, I recognized her as the bitch that had attacked me on the sea shore and pulled my ribs from my chest. That ridiculous curl jutting up from her head was the dead give away.

The vampire woman...that living dead whore, actually had the nerve to move toward me and called out my name. "Sirius Black...I vant..." she stammered.

"You have something to say to me bitch?" I groaned in defiance.

I couldn't see her expression due to the darkness of her silhouette, but her tone remained even enough, "I vant you say I am sorry. I didn't know you vhere vom Azkaban."

"Thats the only deciding factor on whether or not I live or die?" I snapped.

"Ja, you know mein Mutter taught me the count my blessings, not question them so SHUT UP!" she suddenly raged and surged forward. In her hand she carried several large white items that Muggles called pills. She tried to shove them directly in my mouth, but I resisted, thrashing my head about as much as I could.

"Don't fuck vith me!" she raged and clamped her hand down on my nose with such force that I heard cartilage snap. I had no choice but to gasp for air as blood filled my nose and as soon as I did she shoved the pills in my mouth and forced me to swallow.

"Shit, I vas just trying to help you. Those are painkillers, in about an hour you'll be too high to feel your pain, because trust me, more ist coming tomorrow. Jan and Luke are so excited to haf a vizard on their hands, but I vont torture you. Because I am sorry!" she apologized again.

Not wanting to test her violent emotions any further I decided to drop all conversation. But I wanted to tell her that I didn't want the words of the undead. I hated the undead, the zombies, the ghouls, the vampires...all my life I'd seethed with an animosity toward those that leached off human life. It was humiliating that I have fled the grips of Azkaban to be at the mercy of this living dead girl.

She turned away, slammed the door shut and left me cast into darkness.

**Azkaban Prison**

**Six years ago**

_I witnessed it all from my cell door. My world was limited to only the confines of my reeking stone cell, the square window in my cell door that looked out into the corridor beyond and the tiny slit for a window that looked out over the North Sea. It wasn't a particularly inspiring view, the rocks below where jagged daggers raising up from the endlessly churning sea. It only served to remind me that escape was quite impossible. I knew that, and so did the woman in the cell across from mine._

_There were only bars serving as the cell next door, so I could witness each life that deteriorated. She was the 12th prisoner I had witnessed falling into the clutches of death. It was easy to tell when Death was near, because the demetors began to cluster around the cell, and chatter, hiss and rattle amounts themselves with their clocked forms trembling in excitement. _

_A day ago she was allowed a visitor. I knew when the visitor brought a oversized cake that there was a weapon concealed inside, and I suspected the human guards knew as well, but they didn't particularly care. In Azkaban you never saw the outside of your cell, any weapon smuggled in would be quite useless against the dementors, even a wand would be useless. Nobody could conjure a Patronus strong enough to evade thousands of angry dementors. There was only one way to turn the wands, knife, gun or razor blades smuggled inside. _

_I watched the woman extract the six inch long blade from the cake, and carelessly toss the mess of icing aside. With loving care she cleaned the blade with the hem of her robes, than just stared down at it with blank blue eyes, her stringy blonde hair hanging limp over her face, giving her the appearance of a drowned woman. For hours she stared, and for hours I watched...enthralled and repulsed. I knew exactly what she was going to do. I knew, and I said nothing to change it. _

_Than she snapped and quickly she raised the knife and without a moments hesitation jabbed it into her own throat. Blood shot in a fountain across her cell, instantly painting the stone crimson. The dementors began to chatter with glee in their rattling voices. The woman's empty eyes swiveled around the cell, her hands trembled and pushed the blade deeper and deeper into her flesh and twisted the knife across the the gash. Blood geysered from her mouth, and right then she turned her eyes to me. The light faded from them in that instant, and she crumpled unmoving onto the stone. _

_I didn't realize until then that I was screaming,and I found that quite profound. Nothing scared me to the point of screams any more, not even my nightmares. At the very least she could take my scream with her to the afterlife, I had given her nothing else of value. I realized then that I didn't know her name, her crime or had even spoken to her. There had been no reason to speak, she was just another victim of Azkban's grim reality, the fact was that my words, my presence could never have stilled that knife. _

_But I decided that she needed a name, at least to put her to rest in my mind. _

_"Goodbye...Lyra." I choked when my screams subsided. It was a named I plucked from the names of the stars, just like my own name. _

**August 4th 1993**

**Blut Adler Experimental Station**

I managed to block out the expansion of time in which Jan and Luke tortured me next, asking me where I had come from, and what I was doing. I cannot recall what they did, or how I finally lost consciousness but I knew that I didn't speak a word as they cut, burned, and burned with whatever they thought would get me to speak.

When I opened my eyes I was still strapped to the gurney and cast into darkness.

At least six hours passed in silence. I could bare the silence, it had been my dearest friend in Azkaban. It was the screams that I couldn't bare, this silence was calm and blissful. The silence helped my to bear the pain, up until it was shattered by the door creaking open. A familiar figure was silhouetted in the shadows, tall and lanky with that ridiculous curl sprouting from her hair.

"I hear you haf been a bad puppy today Sirius." she practically purred as she stalked closer. I writhed against my bonds, knowing resistance was useless but still wanting to show it.

"Luke und Jan told me you vouldnt speak, und now the news ist buzzing vith vord of your escape. Ja, even the German Muggle news ist talking, but the Vizard news ist quite interesting. They say du are a mass murder. That du killed 12 people vith a single spell, und laughed about it. I think ve shall get along quite vell."

By now she was leaning over the gurney in which I lay. In her hands she held a tiny object that I recognized as a muggle item. A hypodermic needle filled with some unknown fluid. "Wait...please...don't..." I pleaded helplessly, but she still injected the fluid into my arm.

"Don't vorry. You are quite safe now. I vont hurt you. _Ich kann nicht._ This serum ist a cell regenerator, if it vorks the vay it should than in 24 hours you vill be healed. In two hours the pain vill stop. Until then I haf another medication for you."

She pulled out something from behind her ear, a hand rolled cigarette that I recognized instantly despite the blackness covering most of my memory. I smelled the rank fragrance from depths of my memories and it brought back flashes of hippie circles and James giggling mindlessly. My eyes widened at the vampire.

"I find these on the backpackers ve kidnap all the time." she smiled kindly and popped the joint into her mouth and lit the end. Once it ignited she handed it gingerly over to me, I inhaled deeply, and coughed spastically, tasting copper in my throat. Once I caught my breath I felt my senses began to grow numb, heard my line of thought began to trail into senselessness.

"Thank you for sparing my life Miss..." I paused suddenly unable to recall hearing her name.

"First Lieutinate Rip Van Winkle; tinker, tailer, solider, sailor...my bullet punishes all vithout distinction." She sang proudly.

I burst into fits of laughter, "What was that? Was that all your name or some sort of catch phrase?"

Rage flashed into the vampires eyes, but she merely took the joint back and inhaled deeply, suppressing the fire leaping into her eyes...they were gorgeous eyes, the color of sapphires. "Vell vhat sort of name ist Serious Black anvay?"

"No..Sirius...your saying it wrong. It isn't "serious". It is Sirius. Sear-EE-us."I corrected urgently.

"Serious...sear-EE-us...it sounds exactly the same. Vho names their child that?"

"Two inbred wankers, thats who." I confessed bitterly.

She looked at me with blank, stoned eyes than after a long moment blinked and changed the subject entirely. "So how did you do it?" she murmured, and suddenly bent low across my face.I froze completely still, and merely watch as she reached up and suddenly touches her finger tips to my face, caressing my cheekbones then inching into my hair. For the first time in years I feel my cock begin to stir with life, and when I glance downward and see that her half unbuttoned shirt is cut low enough to reveal her slight cleavage, it grows considerably. Still caressing my face and hair she purrs, "How did you escape Azkaban?"

I tore my eyes from her tits and focused instead on the ceiling, or rather on that ridiculous curl springing from her head. "I..." I tried to recall how I did it but my memory brought back only nothing, a fathomless ichor filled void. "I don't remember."

To my shock Rip Van Winkle only nodded, "Und vhy did you escape?"

"Harry...rat...he is the rat...Weasley...Hogwarts" I grasped into the void vainly and came up with those fragmented words.

Again Rip nodded, "So you half not had it yet...the revival."

"Sorrry?" I slurred, feeling disconnected by the pot and numbed by the poison she'd pumped in my veins.

"The Revival. Thats vhat I called it...in Azkaban you forget everything, everything that ever made you happy. But vhen your free all the memories they stole from you come flooding back. It's beautiful and poverful. I called it The Revival and captured the moment with an opera piece. It might take a few days for the Revival to take place, but it vill happen."

"You were in Azkaban?" I said numbly, trying not to pay to much attention to the feel of her fingers against my scalp. What was she doing to me...was she intentionally getting me stoned and hard as a form of torment? Was she doing this knowing full well that I was chained to the bed and unable to indulge in her affections?

"Ja, for about ten years." she began to unbutton her shirt and loosen her tie. In a few swift moments she has stripped down to her black lacy bra barley covering her tiny but perky tits. Only after staring at them in raw lust did I realize that she was showing me a tattoo along her collarbone, a tattoo identical to one of mine, a prison mark. "It vas after the Var, I vas sent there because the enemy thought I must be a Vitch, but I had newer heard of magic until then. It was ten years before the Major could infiltrate the Ministry und pull enough favors to end my fact that I am a wampire gave me no immunity to the dementors. So now do you recall how you did it...how you escaped single handedly vom Azkaban?"

"No." I said truthfully.

"Wery vell." said Rip, snuffing out the end of the joint on her palm without so much as flinching. She smiled briefly and again touched my cheek, unconsciously I leaned into her touch. I know its been years since I have felt human touch...even a dead leach of a human felt quite divine at the moment. "You should go to sleep Sirius Black."

She turned and swept from the room with a flash from her rather lovely black hair. I closed my eyes and surrendered into slumber.

**Rip Van Winkle's Point of View**

He is tied with his arms suspended above his head, ankles in shackles and the whole of his body quite exposed to my brutality. His chest and his thighs were already bleeding from the lashes I'd delivered him courtesy of the razor tipped cat o nine tails I'd used to kiss his flesh. My eyes strayed again to his cock; so soft, and so defenseless. It didn't look like anything capable of violating me. Rather it looked like something capable of pleasuring me.

I dropped the cat o nine tails, and turned to him to retrieve another instrument of torture. I knew something was not right then, because I was wearing nine inch spike heels, and a black leather thong. I wouldn't wear a thong even for Zorin. Being a vampire doesn't make having my ass flossed any less irritating. I am bear breasted...my breasts are twice their actual size. Eventually I am aware that I am dreaming, but instanous relief flows through my perfected body.

_He isn't real...and neither is Millennium. Here even Zorin cannot find me. I can make any choice I wish...I can do to him as I wish...not as the Fuhuer wishes. _My hands stray over my tray of tools...thumb screws, a feather tipped tickler, a Heretics fork, a leather flogger and a choke pear...

I turn back to Sirius, and smile gently at him. His handsome,withered face contracts with fear...it's a expression so lovely that I almost regret my decision. I adore seeing such agony on those features...but instead I grab the soft leather flogger.

"Head down!" I command, and, like an ever obedient dog, Sirius complies.

I push my leather thong down my legs, and rip it in half. Despite my command I see Sirius' grey eyes peering up through the curtains of his hair, drinking in my nakedness. I cannot deny that he desires me, his manhood twitches. I take the ripped fabric and tie it around his head, pulling down the crotch area so that it covers his eyes. "How does it feel, vearing my panties on your head?" I hiss into his ear.

Sirius groans and answers humbly, "Humiliating, Rip Van Winkle, and erotic. "

"_Gut_." I purr and back away from him, and slap the flogger across his face. He jolts in pain, but it's obvious from the reaction in his naked, blood sheathed body that he also enjoyed the blow. I strike him again, and again than slide the leather lightly up and down across his naked torso. This time he cannot suppress a moan, and his erection quivers in anticipation. I bent and traced my tongue across his tip, down his cock then onto his thighs, and drank the blood I had exposed.

I randomize my blows, sometimes caressing him, sometime flogging him. Meanwhile Sirius has began to writhe in his bonds and pant like a beast. Finally I grasp his cock, loving the gasp it frees from his lips. "Rip..." he moans, but I cannot tell if it is a plea.

He feels so rigid and yet oddly yielding in my hands. My own loins are enraged with need.

I loop the flogger around his neck and using it as leverage, I pull myself onto his lips and devour them savagely. His mouth parts and his tongue lashes mine rebelliously. I pull away only to let him breathe, than reach up to untie the rope around his wrists.

He growls savagely as his bonds come free, pulls my panties off his face and wraps me close to his body, pressing his erection between my legs. "Ja..." I whisper, "Take me..."

"RIP VAN WINKLE!" a husky voice shouts, and I witness my dream, witness Sirius and my whole world shatter into glass shards. An immense purple eye opens up in the middle of my vision, and than a towering figure carrying an immense scythe. My eyes snap open and bring me the vision of reality. My girlfriend, Zorin Blitz is hovering above me, holding her magical hand up to my face.

I lash out and snap her hand away. Zorin's powers hold less and less effect on me as time passes, and I wonder if my narcoleptic curse might just hold me somewhat immune to her powers. I could break her illusions, I could shut her from my thoughts. I had befriended a eager young boy by the name of Severus Snape, back at my brief visit to Hogwarts. He called the art Occulmancy and briefly tutored me in it's ways.

Zorin bellows in rage, "Rip! This is the FIFTH time the week you've fallen asleep during sex."

I snarl in defense, "In case you haven't noticed, I am a narcoleptic!" But she is right, sex with her really has bored me into sleep.

"TALK TO ME RIP!" she roars in raw anger, the tattoos covering half her face glow red, but I am still not fazed. I see Zorin like this daily.

"Nein, I half nothing to say." and I rise calmly from the immense coffin we've shared for decades but the past five years we've played this same scenario. Lesbian Bed Death has struck us hard. Each night she'll try to fuck me, I fall asleep, wake, excuse myself to the shower, masterbate than sleep off the daylight in my own coffin.

And I repeat the process and excuse myself to the shower. Water is an immense weakness for me in this life, but in my human life I enjoyed baths and showers. I didn't particularly like smelling like war in that life and still didn't enjoy it in this unlife, so I suffered through the pain and stiffness that invaded my muscles. The water would never kill me, but my body hated it, much like sunlight.

Once in the bathroom I tug furiously at the mirror hung above the sink, it opens and reveals a secret compartment stuffed full of my sex toys. There was a wide assortment of nipple clamps, bullets and lubes but only one dildo, rather small, wide and pale blue colored. Nothing much, but it got the job done. It was priory to hide it in this manner, Zorin disapproved to the point of violence if I tried to introduce penis shaped toys into the the bedroom. I grabbed the dildo, took off my glasses and turned on the shower.

First I tried to merely scrub at my skin, as though this alone could wash away the memory of my erotic dream with Sirius...with a man, but the memory stayed as well as the ache in my loins. My eyes strayed to the dildo, with my blurred vision it might have been anything, for the first time I regarded it with longing rather than with frustration. I often turned to in the frustration when Zorin failed to get me off. The dream had left me with a deep burning longing for man to please me. A man to fuck me. And I had one laying unconscious a few rooms away. How hard would it be to simply go and fuck him right now? Unconscious or not.

After a moment of thought I grabbed the dildo, and turned it to the softest vibration.

Nein...I wanted him awake when I fucked him. It was simple really...Lesbian sex is boring me. I want a man, so I shall take him...whether he wants it or not. After all I saved his life...can I not ask him for this one favor. After all...how long has it been since he has had a woman?

**Sirius' Point of View**

**August 4th 1993**

"Rise and fuckin shine magic boy!" crowed another painfully familiar voice. I jerked awake in horror. It must be nightfall, I assumed these vampires slept by day although it had been broad daylight when I encountered the woman I knew now as Rip Van Winkle. The voice belonged to the undead chav with piercings all across his leering face, Jan.

The second vampire sheathed in white with overlong blonde hair stalked toward me, and narrowed his eyes. "Hmmm well look at that, Fraulein Rip is good for her word, he's completely healed." He was Luke, and as far as I was concerned he was my primary enemy. Rip had ultimately spared my life and apologized for her actions. The pierced chav talked cocky and certainly possessed a sadistic side, but Luke was calm, executed and meant to show no pity.

I glanced down. Sure enough my body bore almost no trace of the brutality that I'd suffered last night, except for a jagged line of scar tissue across my rib cage.

Suddenly Luke shoved something black against the scar tissue and pulled a sort of trigger. A jolt of electricity seized the whole of my body and seized control of my muscles. The pain was instanous, and blinding...and than over. It felt almost like a cross between Stupify and the Crucio curse.

Jan gibbered with laughter, "Stupid fuckin wizard! Doesn't know shit about Tazers. This should be fun right? You got our modified model, right?"

"Jan." Luke signed with impatience and turned a dial on the side of the electricity weapon. "It was supposed to be part off the torture when I amped the voltage. You clearly don't know shit about torture. Not knowing is half the torment." He turned his attention to me, "Now Wizard, you will tell me exactly were you came from."

"Piss off." I bit back, and indeed a moment later received another shock, this one far more painful but I quickly gripped control of my muscles and staved away the worst of it. I didn't even need to cry out.

"Fuck, see what you did Jan? He's not scared of us anymore!" Luke cried out. "I'll ask again, than I am going to the maximum voltage. Where did you come from?"

"Hogwarts." I lied blatantly.

And indeed I was again seized violently by electricity far more violently than before. I felt my heart hammering in wild protest, my eyes rolling in my head and drool spilling down my chin, heard myself shrieking in agony...but is was exactly like the Cruicio curse. Back in the War I had plenty of chances to endure and build my tolerance against Cruico. I held onto my concionsuness, and rode the convolutions out.

Luke yelled out in anger, struck once again. I easily road the attack through, and deep within my heart I felt a different sort of spark flare into life.

"Dude! I am sorry bro, but this is boring as fuck! How about this? Why don't you give him a weapon. Give him some fight!" Jan half pleaded, sounding actually bored.

And to my astonishment Luke paused and lowered his Tazer weapon. "Very well...that sounds fair enough." He undid my straps and let me free. I rose unsteadily, suddenly aware of the frailty within this body, as well as the fact that I was starkers. Neither mattered though, a light was still growing in my heart, I light that not even the dread of Azkaban could stifle that light. He clicked the weapon and handed it to me. "Stand against me, if you succeed I will free you."

I took the weapon, and stood on unsteady legs. Luke backed away several paces and held his arms out to prove he was unarmed. I had never before held such a muggle weapon, but I aimed it just as I would have aimed a wand.

In my youth I had once faced a dragon. And I looked it squarely in the eye, and fired the Conjunctivus curse in it's eyes. Thats what I did now, aim the strange weapon squarely in the eyes of this pale dragon and pressed the trigger. The weapon clicked, but nothing happened, and the fierce green eyes didn't react in the slightest.

Jan burst out laughing, " Bwahahaha! Classic bro! You removed the power source, damn thing is useless."

Luke's face twitched, clearly he had not wanted me to know he cheated and chalk up my failure as inabilty to work a Muggle weapon. I stared squarely into Luke's eyes and let my heart seethe with rage. And suddenly I recalled a face that had fueled my hatred. Never underestimate hatred, in the absence of love it powers just as effectively. It was a pinched, pale and mousey face...the face of a rat...the face of Peter Pettigrew.

I drew upon the sparkling cinder within my heart, and felt it rise as magic in my hand, however I didn't point the weapon at the dragon.

An instant later Jan fell onto the floor, his muscles stiff, eyes rolling and mouth foaming. One of the electric charges this thing shot was stuck squarely in the his right eye. I dropped the weapon and ran. As I ran I felt the power surge through my body, and felt myself transforming into my second body, into the honed, powerful form of the dog. If only I could have retained this form all along that I never would have met Rip Van Winkle, Millennium or any of this horror.

With all my strength I bolted into Luke's form and grabbed the first limb I could access with my teeth and bit down. Oddly enough my teeth sank down into the vampires' flesh like butter, sinking easily down into the bone of his fight femur. I savaged any tissue I could access, ripping clear though muscle and tissue. Luke wailed in desperation, flailing to shake me off. I refused to give him the chance, so I rose snarling from his leg and pounced again. He yielded with amazing ease to my bestial strength. This time I attacked his throat. Once again my teeth sliced easily though his flesh, decimated his larynx and windpipe, and cut his wild shrieks silent. I didn't stop when my maw crushed down around the vertebrae of his neck, rather I shook my snout back and forth savagely, not stopping until a resounding crack filled my senses. Luke fell limp beneath my grasp, twitching once more when I hewed his spinal column in two. Only then did I release him. His head hung at an impossible angle on the floor, connected to his body only by a few ribbons of flesh that I missed.

I back away in shock. Had I actually done that? The vampire didn't move in the slightest, save for a few involuntary twitches of his fingers. It had been so easy, so quick and effortless, I didn't feel the least bit winded from my attack. Jan hadn't even had time to recover from my attack, he was still writhing about on the floor and trying to remove the metal from his eye. Was it possible that my animal form was a powerful weapon against vampires? I had never before even considered the possibility.

I didn't have time to dwell on the possibility now, but millennia later Rip would tell me that until his dying day Luke would have nightmares of being chased and mauled by black dogs. Until the day he fell victim to a hell hound unlike any the imagination could conceive.

I ran as fast as my paws could take me across barren corridors, following the briny scent of the sea. I didn't know where I had washed up at, I didn't even know my destination...but I had a face and I had a name, Peter Pettigrew. And where ever he was, I had to find him. I would torment him worse than I had attacked and savaged Jan and Luke Valentine. At last I leapt up to open a door, and burst out into the rock expanse of a barren coast line. The sky was a pummeled grey, and the sea churning, but I could taste freedom.

_"Hallo weider Sirius Black." _sang an achingly familiar female voice.

Grudgingly, I glanced back to find Rip Van Winkle standing at the doorway, and I caught only a passing glimpse of her swinging the butt of her immense gun at my snout.

When I awoke it was to a suffocating blackness. I was human again and I could feel walls pressing in on every side of me. It was a feeling I knew to well from spending twelve years in the ever pressing walls of an Azkaban cell, but oddly enough my back rested on a mattress.

Yet these wooden walls where much more formidable than a prison cell, these where the confines of a coffin. My instinct was to scream, and pound on the lid and pray the somehow I will be heard. My voice worked well enough, but my wrists and ankles where bound in heavy chains. The most I could managed was an awkward thumping against the coffin, but I kept on thumping and screaming. Finally I felt tears burning in my eyes and cutting trails down my cheeks.

I had a powerful reason for escaping Azkaban...a reason I could no longer recall. In the past 48 hours I have gone from being tossed about in a ocean, to becoming a torture object for a secret vampire organization, and at last being buried alive. How long would I have to endure this final agony before my life ebbed away? What could possibly be worth enduring such agony?

I let the tears overtake me.

Than an instant later the lid came tearing off the coffin, a soft light flooded my vision and I gasped a thanks at my savior. I froze when I recognized my savior as Rip Van Winkle, unusable to process if this was good or disastrous for me.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, "Schiesse! I leave you alone vor a few hours und I return to find you reduced into a sniveling mass."

"You...you put me in here?" I indeed sniveled as I tried to control the tears.

"Ja, I had to. After all, I took you avay from Jan und Luke, und the only safe place vas my coffin. I had to kidnap another vizard, und drag him all the vay here to replace you. Said I vanted to keep you for myself. The vizard appealed to Luke's taste in victims so they agreed to 've fucked Luke up good. He can't keep his head attached, und I applaud you for that. Sorry for the chains, I just don't vant you to escape yet."

"Your coffin?" I repeated.

"Ja, vhere else could I sleep?" she said sarcastically. "Now lay back down _mein Hundchen._ I am going to give you a gift."

I obeyed her, knowing doing so might just save my life. I understood little about this undead fiend of nature, but I did understand that she appeared to have some sort of fixation with me. Best to play that to my advantage. "Mein what?"

"_Hundchen_. My puppy." she said with a wink, and turned from the coffin. I took in my surroundings, finding myself in a dimly light room surrounded by books on three sides, the remanding side was hung with an enormous flag whose symbol I didn't recognize, a sort of tilted cross on a field of blood red. The furniture was sparse, yet overstuffed and quite comfortable looking. Guns and enormous knives hung from shelves and lay in neatly in the corners of the room. Rip turned to an old gramophone and pressed the needle down. The deep tenor of an opera filled the room, singing in a language I didn't understand but sounded German to me.

"This ist mein favorite opera, _Der Freischutz_, the Magic Bullet Marksman. I think everyvone must hear it at least vonce, even if you don't understand Deutsch. You vill be forever changed." she said lovingly and picked something else up, another hypodermic needle, this one twice the size of the last.

I flinched and fought the panic rising in my chest. "Rip...what are you going to do?"

"This ist your gift Sirius, _hundchen_. Trust me." she said with a soft smile and began to approach me with the needle held aloft.

"No...No, Rip, please. I don't want it. Whatever it is, I don't want it...just let me go."

"Oh nein, I cannot do that. Not until you tell me how you escaped, why you did it und haf satisfied my needs." she said sweetly and grabbed my arm.

Despite common scenes I tried to struggle free.

"Hold schtill, und this vill go much faster." she growled and pressed the needle into my arm. A bolt of white hot pain rocketed up through the veins in my arm and crawled up to my collar bone. It wasn't a sensation as agonizing as the Blut Adler by any means, it was more the agony of being injected with something foreign.

"That chip could wery vell save your life vone day." she said explained calmly , "It's another experimental Millennium design, you see ordinarily vhen a wampier bites another the victim ist transformed into ghoulish, rotting corpses that are controlled by the wampire, unless the victim ist a wirgin. As you can see that creates a high demands on our food source. A human is good to us only vonce, then they are useless. So the Furher hast proposed another final solution. Vonce we round up all the humans into camps, ve tag them vith the chip I gave you. These chips vill prevent the wampire transformation in a deflowered human for up to twenty bites. It hast also increased your strength und healing ability by ten times. This chip vill last for at least five years, I bet you could survive the Killing Curse. I am giving you this out of my own free vill. Now, ve have the inconvenience of your death dealt vith."

Her face suddenly underwent a drastic transformation, shifting from subtle beauty to a hideous grinning mask. Her teeth were serrated dripping fangs, her glasses gleamed in the glow of blood red eyes. With spindly hands she yanked my hair back so that my neck lay completely bare, and she panted, "I saved your life...several times now. Now I vill take vhat ist mine."

She leaned down across me and bit down into my throat. It wasn't the elegant, neat vampire bites I'd read about in the Restricted books at Hogwarts. It was vicious, it was what I had done to Luke. Her fanged maw chomped down on my carotid and larynx with all the savagery of a wolf. I shrieked for a moment, than my cries where stifled as her teeth serrated my larynx. Blood spurted in jets from the wounds, and I thought instantly of Lyra.

Once Rip had tired of sundering my flesh, she withdrew her fangs and began to suck greedily upon the wounds. Than a curious feeling welled along with the blood, a strange lightheaded giddiness that quickly ebbed the pain away. The feeling rose to a crescendo with the tempo of the opera playing in the background. With each slurp,and each swell of the opera, my pleasure increased. Finally I couldn't suppress a moan from escaping my lips, and took note that my vocal cords had already healed, just as she promised.

Rip moaned in turn and sucked harder down upon the slowing flow of blood. The moment she did the pleasure surged into the level of orgasm unlike any a human was meant to experience. It radiated throughout my veins and surged through my whole body, leaving me gasping and panting but voice was insufficient to describe the pleasure.

Rip peered up from my neck, and licked her blooded lips obscenely but that didn't begin to clear the blood stained across her face and glasses. "Did you enjoy that _mein Hundchen_?"

I made an inarticulate response, and listened to the pounding of my heart, reassured that indeed still beat.

"I can make a bite as painful or as pleasurable as I vish. Und I daresay that you haf had enough pain as of late." she explained and wiped the blood from her glasses with a silk handkerchief. She started at me blearily eyed for a moment, than replaced her glasses and bolted forward to latch her lips onto mine. It was brief kiss, a mere touch of her lips and tangle with her tongue that I urged onward. After all,I hadn't been kissed in twelve years,but she quickly pulled away as though certain she was breaking some horrible taboo. She growled, rage again shifting across her features.

"Vell your _blut_ tastes divine. You must be a Pureblooded vizard. But your kiss ist foul. Silly human. As if I could expect any different." she snapped and unfurled herself from the coffin. Without a backward glance she slammed the lid shut and left me encased in darkness.

_Coming up next! _

_A German dinner...recollections from Azkaban...the favor...the meaning of a Nazi...release. _


End file.
